


Home

by ohmyvalar



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Deadpool - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Chap 1 is Colossus/Deadpool, Chap 2 is Cablepool, Chap 3 is ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), Deadpool 2 Spoilers, M/M, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Pre-Poly?, god that looks weird in tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-14 01:41:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14760179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyvalar/pseuds/ohmyvalar
Summary: The gang crash at the X-Mansion, Colossus and Cable work out their feelings, and Wade rediscovers the meaning of home.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd and with 0 comic knowledge other than from the wikis, so alll mistakes are mine and mine alone!

The unfortunate thing about found family was that they tended to already have preexisting ties that compelled them elsewhere. 

There was always the simple comfort of a safehouse tucked away somewhere in the city's underbelly, or the luxury of coming home to a table full of cooked dishes, or even the distant dream of the warm arms of a lover welcoming you back to bed. 

The X-Force, it seemed, was no different. Even Wade's amazing new team wouldn't stay for the obligatory post-mission Bonding Over The Gory Deaths of Their Enemies session. 

When all was said and done, Domino was the first to excuse herself. The cheerily unflappable newly-minted superheroine carted the liberated orphans off in the dubiously functional truck, with a shaken but safe - for himself and everyone else around him - Russell in tow. 

Neither left a message for further contact, but Wade wasn't worried about losing them. Experiences like the one Domino and Russell had just went through forged a bond between fellow comrades-in-arms. They would be back, sooner or later; if this was the life they wanted to lead from now onwards. 

As the battered truck stuttered to life - that girl really did have damnable luck - the remaining X-Force members stared at each other. 

Colossus was solemn, silently surveying his teammates as if worried that one of them would suddenly keel over and die again without his supervision. And by "one of them" Wade had a feeling that it primarily meant himself - which was just a little bit aggravating, considering that he was the one who had saved the day today, and was feeling just fine now, thank you very much. 

Yukio, ever the beam of eternal sunshine in Wade's dreary non-magical girl existence, smiled like the angel she was. She had linked arms with her girlfriend. It was a cute, non-PDAy gesture, but just looking at them made Wade's heart clench. He'd left Vanessa in the afterlife with a mutual promise of faith and reunion, but that didn't make the fact that there was now no one with whom he could share such easy intimacy beside him hurt any less. 

Cable stood a ways off to the side, arms crossed and eyes - eye? - deceptively hooded. Well, at least he had a fellow man who clearly didn't feel like he belonged among family either. His gaze was practicedly light, but Wade could still feel it scoping over his skin like a sniper's mark. Scorn? Empathy? At least he didn't think it could be pity. 

Eventually Negasonic Teenage Warhead - okay, that was a mouthful even in his head. How did the writers keep it up in the script? - broke the growing silence. 

"So, we heading back now or what?" Leaning against the yellow taxi cab, she rapped twice on the window pane. 

A second later Dopinder popped his head out of the lowered window. There was still, Wade noted warily, a disturbingly enthusiastic bloodlust shining in his eyes like anime sparkles. "Ah, yes! It is good to see you again, young fellow vigilante assassin! Shall we be returning to the super-secret headquarters before our next mission? Oh, and what about..." 

Wade tuned out on the rest of the cabbie-turned-wannabe-contract-killer's excited babble as Colossus, Negasonic and Yukio climbed into the taxi. Even Cable made to squeeze in the backseat beside the girls. 

"Hey - hey! What is this, robbery in plain daylight? Where's your fancy high-tech X-Men private jet? This is my ride! Dopinder! I'm going to sue you for flagrant flouting of our customer-service provider agreement!" 

Yukio leaned out of the rear window with a good-natured reply. "Our transport got damaged in the fight against Juggernaut. But don't worry, Wade! I'll fix it once the rest of the team retrieves the craft." She pointed at a mess of smoking rubble - suspiciously devoid of the fallen remains of the hulking giant - near the scene of action. 

"And we're not stealing anything." Negasonic added. "Aren't you coming with us?"

A beat passed as they stared at each other through the car window. 

Well. Wade hadn't been expecting that. The kid was rescued, both from himself and from Cable. The Juggernaut was defeated, if not dead. They'd had their Badasses Don't Look At Explosions squad walk away from the destruction left in their wake. 

Now was, by all the conventions of scriptwriting and co-worker behavioral relations, the time for slinking back to their respective business alone. No one wanted to see the sad, boring daily lives of morally ambiguous antiheroes after all. They sometimes hit too close to home. 

And the unspoken question, hanging in the air between them like a suggestion. Because even the sardonic goth was tactful enough not to ask it out loud: _Where else do you have to go?_

As Wade weighed the silent question in his head, a few reflexive answers sprang to mind. 

There was Blind Al's, but even the eccentric old lady wouldn't put him up forever. And of course there were his various hideouts scattered across the world. Before special ops, before cancer, before... Vanessa, he would've taken any of those choices without a second thought. 

But the time spent with the love of his life, however brief, had taught Wade the difference between a house and a home. A house was anywhere he could lay his bones down to rest. Home was a familiar apartment bathed in afternoon light, with the woman of his dreams waiting for his eventual homecoming beyond the veil. 

"Well?" Negasonic prompted impatiently. From beside her, Yukio and Cable looked expectantly at Wade. Dopinder was watching them with the distant but invested eyes of a hardcore fan at an exclusive movie premiere. Colossus was the only one who was staring resolutely away from Wade. 

_Aha. When in doubt, deflect._ "Weeeell! Apparently, the only responsible adult that the writer is knowledgeable enough to write into the X-Mansion storyline doesn't welcome me. And as shameless as I may sometimes seem, I do have the decency to -"

"It is precisely only because I am only responsible adult present that I am allowing you entry to X-Mansion." Came the stoic reply. 

Yup. Colossus was _definitely_ sulking; which wasn't really fair. _He_ wasn't the one who had been rejected before his entire team after pleading for a reconciliation in a cheap parody of Romeo and Juliet. 

Riling the metallic mutant up enough for the chance to hear him swear again would've persuaded Wade to go along with their little school trip at any other time, but... The truth was that it'd been a long day. Even super-anti-heroes with endless regenerative powers needed recharge time. 

And what had happened today... Wade had made some semblance of peace, but he didn't know if he would ever get over it. Vanessa's death was a lesson, a moral and a punishment all wrapped up as a tiny little fucked up anniversary present. Wade had never been a religious man, but he knew what direction his character development was supposed to take next. 

And so he was about to _exeunt, stage right_ with a suitably witty repartee - when he caught sight of the look Yukio and _Cable_ of all people were exchanging with each other. 

_Oh,_ hell. They were all doing that _thing_ again, that thing where they pretended they didn't care, when they actually really, really did. Wade should know. It was all part of his humanizing arc with Russell. Which was only one more reason why he shouldn't be falling for it. 

Yukio turned away from Cable with sad puppy-dog eyes that would've made monsters meaner than the Juggernaut weep in the blood of their violently murdered victims. Negasonic gave Wade a considering once-over, as if deciding the appropriate punishment for upsetting her girlfriend. _Oh,_ fuck. 

" _Okay_. Okay, fine. I'll come along on your school tour for the benefit of Mister Lost-In-Time here." Wade pointed an accusing finger at Cable, who shrugged nonchalantly in a Whatever Makes It Easier For You, Dude way. Then he paused. A little finger-pointing headcount came up to four passengers and a traitorous driver. "Only thing is, don't we have a little overpopulation situation here?" 

Under Wade's wary gaze, Negasonic and Cable shared a devious smile.

-

An hour-long drive later, Dopinder's weathered taxi cab pulled up to the X-Mansion. 

The girls got out of the car on either side together like the badass power couple they were. Their driver swung the door open in an obvious attempt at mimicking their dramatic exit - and nearly got hit in the face by a passing Cable. He was steadied by Colossus, who frowned consideringly down at the human as if seriously evaluating him as a part of the X-Force. 

On the steps of the mansion portico, Negasonic turned and arched a brow down at the empty car. 

Right on cue, the trunk gave a hollow thunk. A series of banging and tussling later, Wade emerged from within with an indignant cry on his lips. "When I said I was willing to lend you the cab, I didn't mean being stuffed into the back like the victim in a Tarantino flick!"

The spiky-haired teenager rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Quit whining, dipshit. You coming in or not?"

As things turned out, Colossus obtained permission from Professor X to temporarily host Wade and Cable at the Mansion, with an open invitation to Domino and Russell if they chose to drop by. Even Dopinder was promised an all-access tour of the premises. All of this, of course, happened offscreen. 

With that settled, the gang split up. The girls left together for their rooms; Yukio gave Wade an encouraging pat on the arm before they parted. Cable was heading to the Professor's office for a private talk. 

That left the merc-with-a-mouth to navigate his own way through the Mansion alone. 

The room assigned to him was a Spartan space. The bare necessities were there; a bed, a table, and a ceiling light. There wasn't much of a view either. Wade's fingers, when they drew the curtains back on the window looking out towards a similar-looking room, were tainted with dust. 

"... And I thought the X-Men were the ones with the budget surplus."

To be fair, Wade had seen - and lived in - worse. Legally dead ex-black ops mercenaries didn't really have their choice of penthouses with a skyline view. And on any other day he may have settled for kicking back his metaphorical boots and getting some sleep. 

But today, the blood was still thrumming in his veins from a post-mission adrenaline high. He was restless and high-strung, without an outlet in sight. 

And when else was he going to have unguarded freedom in poking his head around the X-Mansion? Someone had to provide the blueprints for an X-Force residential counterpart. 

So thinking, Wade unceremoniously dumped his gear on the unmade bed and wandered out into the hallway. 

He passed a series of deserted rooms, all devoid of decoration or individuality. There was not a soul in sight. "The budget crew can't really be this hard up, can they? This is just lazy scene scripting... Aha!" 

At the end of the corridor lay a door that opened into a suite. Unlike in the other dud rooms, the curtains were pulled away and the windows opened. The light sound of birds chirping travelled into Wade's ears as he stepped in. Huh. Even the floor was nicely carpeted. 

A gargantuan desk that looked like multiple standard-sized ones pushed together occupied most of the expansive space. The bed, on the other hand, although well-furnished with a blanket and mattress, was squeezed into a corner. While perfectly made and clearly expected to be of continued use, it looked like it hadn't been slept in in days.

Apparently _someone_ was a workaholic. 

Wade rummaged through the bedside wardrobe and found it full of the same old yellow-black X-Men uniform. _These boring bumblebees really have no taste in style._

At least he and the owner of the suite seemed to be of a size. He fished a hoodie and pants out from the depths of the wardrobe and tried them on. They fit well enough. 

Wade figured that their owner wouldn't be missing them anytime soon; the casual clothes were stashed with an apparently forgotten set of worn lingerie. Perhaps the mystery mutant was spending his nights in his girl's room nowadays instead - or maybe that was a remainder from his experimenting days. The X-Mansion residents couldn't _all_ be prim-and-proper prudes like Colossus. 

He was succeeding so well in distracting himself that the heavy footsteps by the door made him jolt guiltily. 

"Deadpool! I was searching for you." The familiar Russian accent rang in the air. Speak of the devil. "But why are you here in S - Oh, you're wearing his clothes too." 

Wade turned, a reflexively shameless smile plastered across his face. "Ah, about that -" _God fucking damnit, out of all the possible mutants to stumble in -_ The metal paragon of virtue was not going to take nicely to thievery, even if the stolen goods in question were musty clothes and the perpetrator was a godforsaken amoral mercenary. 

_There must be some name on these things for Colossus to have identified them so quickly_. Wade backed away to the nearby mirror, nervous laughter bubbling out of him in bursts. "You see, this guy and I go _way_ back -"

The pillar of metal's brows furrowed in bemusement, then deepened into growing disapproval. "Wait - Then you must know his - And you still...?" 

_Huh._ Either Colossus was coming down with a bad case of stuttering, or he was omitting pieces of information to avoid spoiling a future plot point. Either way, Wade needed to change the subject right about fucking now before his barefaced lie was exposed. 

"Shhhhh." Wade shushed the metal mutant with a patronizing finger, before folding his arms across his chest. "You have really fucking terrible timing. But I'm feeling generous, so let's just cut to the point. This thing's got a limited runtime, you know." 

Colossus was used to the mercenary's inexplicable insinuations by now. Frowning, he shuffled his feet. The sound reverberated through the floorboards. 

_Interesting._ Was Colossus feeling guilty? And why now, of all times...? Was he being unceremoniously ejected from the Mansion after all? Wade ground down hard on the inside of his cheek. His lips - or at least, whatever was left of them - were already curling up into a reflexive grin. What did Cable call it? _A_ defense mechanism... 

"I am here to apologize." With the words out of his mouth, the mountain of a man immediately straightened, as if he had just relinquished a heavy burden. _Well, well, here it comes..._ "I gave up on you when I should not have. I almost let you fail in redeeming yourself by saving that child. And I would not have confessed this to you... But the Professor gave sound advice. He said I would regret not laying things out in the open with someone I value." 

...And just what was this? His eyes are as earnest as any brainwashed cultist's, but then look at the steaming pile of bullshit _that comes out of that mouth._ "That advice sounds like _shit_ to me. And since when does Charles Xavier give a damn about immoral cutthroat mercenaries?" 

Colossus took a steady step towards Wade. But despite the mercenary having blatantly insulted his respected Professor, the gesture was filled with only calm conviction. "Professor X is invested in care of all mutants. He believes mutants and humans can coexist peacefully. As do I. But that is not only reason why I am here for you." 

From this distance Wade could see that his eyes were brimming with some sort of horribly misplaced tenderness. 

That last observation was, more than anything else, what set the mercenary on an instinctive backtrack. Not just a physical retreat, but a verbal one too: "You mean, to reclaim your little Messiah-complex pet project?" The words were meant to be delivered with faux nonchalance, but even to Wade's own ears they sounded guttural. _Gutting._

And even before the words were out he knew they were wrong. There was nothing of a wannabe cult leader, no shade of solipsism, in Colossus' earnest and stoic demeanor. 

What the stupid metal pillar _did_ have in buckets wasn't a savior but a _salvation_ complex. He didn't want to be Wade's - or anyone else's - god, he genuinely only wanted them to be saved. Which was not only an idiotically impossible mission when his definition of saved was becoming a straight-laced goody-two-shoes X-Man, but it was also stupidly _honorable._

And Wade wanted no part in any of that. He may have saved a kid once and starred in his own action movie twice now - and to be sure, those were the salt and pepper of superhero movies - but heroism wasn't going to become a staple in his repertoire. It would ruin the whole shit-talking antihero image his entire franchise was built on. 

More importantly, it just wasn't _in_ him. What, after a whole lifetime spent mired in crime and vice on opposite barrels of the gun, was he expected to suddenly go straight and narrow? Even a hundred Colossuses - _and heh, there was a thought..._ \- couldn't do that. 

No, his life was crude jokes and raining gore and occasional emotional moments, and he was _honest-to-goodness_ satisfied with that. 

_Although,_ Wade thought, catching Colossus' eye, _I wouldn't say no to making it a little_ happier, _if you catch my drift._

He watched as the metal giant's expression shifted from hurt confusion into a warming hesitation. This time, when he came closer, it was with a familiar tension in his step. 

"Ah... Did I say all that out loud?" Wade wondered, consciously aloud this time. They continued their stepping game of cat and mouse, which ended in Colossus backing him up against the open windows. Still his eyes and movements were gentle. It was the kind of manner that would've been patronizing coming from anyone but Colossus.

"Are you... nervous?" 

Oh, Wade was nervous all right; his hands were making embarrassing abortive spasms behind his back. He just wasn't sure _why._

Colossus was hot. Those teasing actions and remarks he'd made weren't solely for the sake of their audience. It was sorta a pity that his body was wasted on such a gentle mind by nature - he could've been thrown around in the _fun_ way - but incompatible personality aside, everything else ticked Wade's biological boxes. 

Was it guilt at the pseudo-betrayal of his girlfriend's memory, then? But from Vanessa, that parting remark had basically been a mutual pass for an open relationship. 

Wade's uncharacteristic silence had not gone unnoticed. And from the concerned look on Colossus' face, the metal mutant had apparently come to the same conclusion. "Is this because of -"

Before he could finish that unfortunate sentence, Wade pushed off against the window ledge and launched himself at Colossus. 

The mutant's mouth was a firm line against his lips at first - had Colossus expected a fight instead? - but they yielded immediately. Wade was gratified to learn that the inside of his mouth didn't taste like metal. It would've been difficult to differentiate from the tang of blood. 

They made out like horny, desperate teenagers in full view of whosoever happened to be present out in the X-Mansion yard. As long as they weren't Negasonic or Yukio - or, god forbid, both of them together - Wade didn't care. 

And... It was _good_. For all that Colossus behaved like a thirty-year-old virgin, he'd clearly reached first base before at least. Wade had been prepared for the necessity to rile the gentle giant up a little before they could really get down to the hot and heavy stuff - but if the metal - literally - pole pressing up against his stomach was any indication, his engines were revving and ready to go.

But when the mercenary led him towards the bed, Colossus pushed him off gently but firmly. 

It took a few seconds for Wade's brain to rewire. _Never let it be said that the Merc With A Mouth doesn't suffer from the same-old Led Around By His Dick Syndrome..._ "What, you're not into a little exhibitionism?"

Colossus looked over his shoulder, then shook his head in good spirit. "This is not right place for it." A big metal hand curved around Wade's cheek, warming the scar tissue on the side of his face. The mercenary turned to sink his teeth into the metal mutant's palm - only to have a thumb slotted into his mouth. 

_Well, if that's what he wants..._ Colossus certainly wouldn't be the first person to want Wade to shut up in bed, and in this case the mercenary was willing to do a little give-and-take. He sucked compliantly on it. The thing was like an iron bar across his teeth; it made him sorely conscious of their size difference. 

It also made his dick strain painfully in his borrowed pants. 

Oh - could it be that _that_ was what Colossus was bothered about? In Wade's mind, it was a small enough leap to go from stealing a man's pants to having sex in his bed. Maybe the mystery mutant would even be happy to let his bed see some action? 

Talking around a metal thumb in your mouth, unfortunately, wasn't terribly efficient. After a few moments of disappointingly unkinky _goo-goo_ and _gaa-gaa-_ ing, Colossus removed his spit-slick finger. He was barely restraining himself from laughing, and his eyes were suspiciously warm as they looked down at the mercenary. 

"Tonight, _Wade_. If you have not changed your mind, keep your door open - and I will come to you." 

With that, the metal mutant turned and left, spine straight and apparently in a good mood. His footsteps resounded down the hallway to the beat of _Another One Bites the Dust._ Okay, so _someone_ was confident about getting laid tonight. 

Alone in the sunlit room, Wade dropped down onto the bed. He was still high-strung and frustrated - but for an entirely different reason now. The mercenary briefly considered taking care of the problem in his pants first, then swiftly banished the idea from his mind. 

Colossus wanted to be a tease? Well, fine. Two could play at the blue-balling game. Wade was fairly confident that it had been longer for the stick-up-his-ass mutant than it had been for him. The thought about exactly why that was killed his boner a little. 

To distract himself, the mercenary stared out through the window. The courtyard was as empty and lifeless as it ever was.


	2. Chapter 2

Dinner was to be served in a cozy hall with walls decorated by pictures of the X-Mansion's inhabitants. 

In the corner was a snapshot of Negasonic and Yukio with arms around each other's waists, grinning widely at the camera. Pinned around it were pictures of other teenage mutants. 

Then there was a photo of Colossus together with a younger brunette mutant. Even through the film, you could see the hero worship in her eyes. _Huh, so even the stoic prude has his admirers._

Wade smirked as the memory of their most recent encounter resurfaced in his mind. Okay, so maybe the metal giant wasn't _that_ much of a prude. 

Right in the middle of the installation were photographs of Professor X himself. From smiling raven-haired youth to weathered wheelchaired baldie - just by staring at them, Wade felt as if he was watching Xavier's life flash by before his eyes. _I'd better get Colossus a bottle of hair-growth shampoo the next time I get the groceries... Wait, is his_ hair _metal too?_

Scattered amongst them were snapshots of the Professor with other mutants. A man with a shark's smile - who was noticeably absent from the rest of the wall - was exchanging a grin with a young idealistic Xavier in one. Professor X was placing a proud hand on the shoulder of a mutant with a visor in another. 

A photo-wall; like they were a real, oversized family that had never heard of birth control. It was a pretty cute idea. Wade started counting the number of X-Force members on his fingers, already planning their own copyright-free version. 

He would be in the middle, of course, as the metaphorical father and founder of the team. In light of the unfortunate decimation of the original X-Force members, perhaps Cable could be promoted to lieutenant? He was definitely stealing Yukio from the X-Men. Maybe Negasonic would even come along as a package deal. 

Speaking of the angel... The magical girl herself was seated along the dining bench, right across... Dopinder? 

Wade hadn't known they were acquainted, but with his own friendship with Yukio as the basis, he supposed that a taxi ride was plenty enough time for another bond to blossom. 

Still, the mercenary was perversely curious as to what the two were talking so animatedly about. He slid down the bench as inconspicuously as he could - which was to say, not very. 

"Not everyone's made to be a hero, Dopinder." Yukio was saying. "Ah - I don't mean just the superpowers!" She added quickly, seeing the cab driver's face droop in despair.

"Just think - there's Professor X, Cyclops and Colossus. Then there's Magneto, Sabretooth and Mastermind. They’re all mutants with potentially lethal powers, but look how differently their lives panned out! And there's ambiguously aligned supers like Wolverine… And you, of course, Wade.”

At that last part, Yukio and the mercenary exchanged their customary wave. 

“Well, always happy to be mentioned in the same sentence as my old bud Wolvie… Although I think he goes by Logan these days.” Wade whispered in a faux dramatic aside. “And hey, Dopinder - glad to see you're still sticking around.” _Us outcasts - read: non-virtuous humans and mutants - gotta stick together._

The hopeful contract killer glanced at the mercenary with gloomy eyes. “Hi, Deadpool. Yukio here was just telling me how my chances of becoming a superhero are even slimmer than the odds of becoming a bloodthirsty vampire assassin.”

“I'd say they're next to none,” Wade muttered under his breath, and was pinched by their female companion in the shoulder. “I mean, you got your taste of the action as my driver, right? I promise I'll give you your dues.” _Besides, giving free kills saves money from a fixed salary._

“What I mean is, there's a place and purpose in the world for everyone. We have the X-Mansion, you have the X-Force, and even the villains have their own Brotherhood. You'll find your home too, Dopinder, I promise! If there's space for a Japanese teenager who doesn't wear a schoolgirl costume all the time, then there has to be one for an Indian taxi driver with contract killer dreams too.”

_Home._ The sound of the word echoed in Wade’s mind for some unnameable reason. Once upon a time he'd had one too. And now it was, quite literally, only a dream. 

Dopinder was staring at Yukio with a mixture of surprise and admiration. Wade didn't blame him. He did, however, make a mental note to warn Negasonic about a possible competitor for her girlfriend’s attentions. 

Yukio looked a little embarrassed at the reaction to her speech. Wade could tell that she was about to say something humble in reply when her eyes locked on something behind him. “Ah, Mister Cable!”

“Hey! Why does Metal Arm get a ‘mister’?” Wade exclaimed reflexively - before the thought that that could actually be a compliment occurred to him. Despite his whole Lonely Maverick Futuristic Nomad appearance, Cable didn't actually look that much older than Wade himself - especially with the scars making his age indeterminate at most.

Maybe this was a sign that Yukio considered him less respectable than Cable? Less respectable was good. In the mercenary’s book, less respectable almost always meant a more friendly relationship. 

Cable didn't seem to hear her - which was a generous assumption on Wade’s part, because what kind of _monster_ would willingly ignore the angel at any given moment? - and placed a heavy hand on Wade’s shoulder instead. 

The mercenary turned around slowly, wondering if this was a continuation of their I Didn't Do It For You argument or an attempt to define their new Enemies to Ambiguously Homoerotic relationship - when Cable deadpanned: “That's my father’s clothes you're wearing.”

_Wait, what?_

Wade whirled around to face Dopinder and Yukio to ascertain that he hadn't just missed a plot point. But the duo only looked bemusedly back at him. 

“Uh?” Wade uttered intelligently. “I'm sorry, is this an Electra Complex thing?” The future was probably too sophisticated to still use the term “Daddy Kink”. 

“Deadpool being struck silent, this is a rare sight,” Dopinder muttered softly to Yukio from behind a cupped hand - but not softly enough to escape the mercenary’s ears. “Hey, I heard that!”

Cable looked down at him in amusement. “That's not my thing, but I'm not objecting if you want to call me Daddy.”

“...” Okay, he took that back. Apparently whatever future Cable came from still had uncultured terminologies. 

“Are you guys just flirting in public right now? Because I can't tell,” Dopinder asked weakly. Wade thought he looked a little scared at the idea of him and Cable running around on more murder-dates.

Cable leaned forward across the table and made serious eye contact with the cab driver. 

Wade took the chance to admire the metal arm while its owner was distracted with defending his long-destroyed virtue. Other than the fact that it was clearly lacking a red star, the prosthetic looked like it could've been a leftover from the set of The Winter Soldier that the props crew traded in for a cheap deal. _Disappointing._

"Are we going to have a problem with that?” The time-traveller enunciated slowly, word by intimidating word.

Wade watched, entertained, as Dopinder practically shrank into his seat. “N-no! No problem, Cable, sir!”

And now the mercenary was pissed off. First Yukio, and now Dopinder too?

He'd like to think that offing people, animals and sentient otherworldly beings on a working-day basis in front of his driver instilled a healthy dose of fear and respect in him - but apparently all of that was nothing compared to an appearance and a few words from Classic Alpha Male Specimen Numero Uno here. 

_Time to assert a little autocratic authority._

Wade cleared his throat in what he hoped was a suitably commanding way. “Lay off him, Bucky Barnes." 

This time it was Cable's turn to be insulted. He reared back from the table - more out of outrage than from obedience, the mercenary observed with resignation - and demanded, "Why aren't you calling _him_ a homophobe?"

It took Wade a moment to recall the joke. Between worrying - the concept that he could worry about anyone else was never not going to trip his tongue - about Russell and... hooking up with Colossus - and that was never not going to sound weird; he'd all but forgotten about Cultural Appropriation Asshole. 

"So the future still has those too? Disappointing," Wade shot back. "And Dopinder can't be homophobic. He's both a POC and a fan favorite - it's why he's still hanging around in this Mansion for mutants."

Seemingly satisfied with having had his fun, Cable withdrew and put his hand back on the mercenary's shoulder. "I'll see you out in the yard in an hour." The words were uttered in an undertone. In the time-traveller's baritone, they were a bizarre mix between angry headmaster and bad porno. Or maybe both. _Too soon?_

The chill of his metal palm lingered through the fabric of Wade's borrowed sweater. He shivered; in anticipation or fear, he couldn't tell.

From across the bench, Yukio clapped her hands together cheerfully. "Have fun on your date! Bye, Wade!" Dopinder whispered what sounded like a Hindu prayer under his breath.

"Bye, Yukio..." The mercenary replied miserably. With the ominous promise of Cable's ambiguous summons hanging over them, dinner suddenly didn't seem like such an enjoyable prospect any more.

-

Because it wouldn't do to let Cable get any further ideas of superiority into his futuristic head, Wade arrived on the scene only a quarter after the anointed hour. And, okay - maybe some of that was because he was a bit of a dick.

_Or a whole lot._

The X-Mansion's front yard was more like a garden these days. Flora from every corner of the world had been painstakingly cultivated by its owner's green thumb. Under the gentle night breeze, the trees and leaves cast sweeping shadows across the school grounds. It was... relaxing, knowing that for once he wasn't sneaking around as a hostile.

The time-traveller was already in the yard. _So at least this isn't the whole I Want You To Fear Me So I'm Deliberately Standing You Up After Summoning You thing. A little advice, Readers: that shit never works._

The sight of Intimidating Villain Protagonist Terminator sitting silently by the artificial fountain like a woefully miscast Nicholas Sparks lead, still dressed in full Blade Runner cosplay, provoked Wade into a fit of laughter that he just barely managed to contain.

Cable's head snapped up instinctively at the sound. Although - now that Wade thought about it, their response reflex today was suspiciously not up to speed for two veteran assassins. _Is this another case of realism being sacrificed for the sake of drama? Come on, writers, it's time to step up your game!_

"You're late." The time-traveller noted as he stood up to… welcome Wade? His hands were clasped together before him in what looked suspiciously like the conciliatory gesture of someone about to do something guilt-inducing.

“And you're missing a tuxedo and a limousine, Homecoming King. I'll have you know that there's a whole line of sentient beings out there waiting for a chance to go to prom with me.” The mercenary eyed Cable warily as he unceremoniously sat his ass down on the fountain's ledge. “No, seriously - _what the fuck is up with “you're wearing my father's shirt”?”_

Cable opened his mouth, then shut it again with a fraction of a shake of his head. Wade thought he seemed secretly relieved by the excuse to direct the conversation into safer territory. “Well - you are. Haven't you looked at yourself in the mirror?”

And didn’t that just hit him like a punch in the guts. Because while Deadpool preened in front of mirrors as much as the next spandex-wearing closet fetishist super, Wade Wilson didn't have much going for him these days. It was kind of a side effect of the whole Cancer Correctional Therapy Turned Mutant Transformation thing.

The worst thing was, he couldn't tell if the time-traveller was making a joke at his expense or not.

It was the same as with the “handsome” quip. Cable said everything so seriously that it was nigh impossible to differentiate his wisecracks from his threats.

Wade's mind went onto Deflective Autopilot. “Wow, that’s just a little insensitive, Metal Arm. Don't they teach you how empathy works in the grand ol’ future?” He gestured towards the arm in question.

The time-traveller followed his gaze down to the metal limb. “It's a developing condition. I've made my peace with it for a long time now.” His tone was even, but his words were curt. 

“And that's not what I meant. The back of your sweater - it reads “Summers”.”

_Summers?_

“Summers? Like _Scott Summers?_ \- Wait, or it could be Havoc… But I don't think Polaris ever had a kid in any of the continuities…” Wade rambled as his thoughts spilled out through his mouth. “So your dad’s Golden Boy Cyclops? ...Wow, the apple really fell far from the tree this time.”

“And so… this isn't your mutation? I thought maybe it was some fucked up karma as Magneto’s kid. Would fit your villainous Rough ‘Round The Edges look and all that.” Wade pressed a carefully careless hand to Cable’s metal arm. Unlike Colossus’ metal-flesh mutation, he felt cold to the touch.

Cable didn't quite pull away, but the mercenary could feel the miniscule flinch that reverberated all the way up through the metal. “Wade…”

“Good to know we're on a first-name basis after letting me touch your metal stick.” He replied reflexively, before a perverse curiosity grabbed ahold of him. “Wait - what's yours? No, don't tell me - Lemme guess -”

Cable watched him with his brows pulled into a frown, but made no move to interrupt. He’s being suspiciously tolerant, Wade noted silently, even as his continued rattling off his list of baby names.

“- Ooh, I know - _Beam me up, Scotty!_ No? Would've been a nice tribute… Or keeping with the grim-dark Greek mythology motif, Thanatos? No, that'd probably be too lazy a derivative from Thanos…” 

“Nathan,” the time-traveller abruptly interjected in his gravelly voice. “Nathan Summers. My mother named me that.”

“Nathan… Nathaniel? Pretty egotistical, but I guess that's motherly love for you.” Wade quipped. “Wait - so your mom’s Phoenix? _That_ love’s gotta burn like a hellfire, alright.”

Cable shook his head gravely. “My mother’s name was Madelyne Pryor.”

“Oh, _wow_. Didn't think Golden Boy would be one for double-timing. Every day my list of role models dwindles…”

“My father met her after Jean Grey first died. She reminded him of her in many ways. They… fell in love and got married soon after. And then they had me.”

“What, in that she shared a penchant for teen-friendly sexualized clothing and was always around just in time to be his humanizing weakness?”

“... Careful, that’s my mother you're talking about. And she was my stepmother’s clone.”

“Huh.” Wade considered that for a moment.

If a woman who looked and acted exactly like Vanessa entered his life, would he fall for her immediately? Would he sacrifice his love and memories with her for the chance to find solace in the present world?

_… Perhaps not._

But then again, Wade supposed he had the game-changing knowledge of the afterlife - if the whole thing hadn't been a fucking hallucination born from brain damage, that is.

If it was, Wade wasn't complaining. Sometimes you had to cling onto some modicum of closure to achieve the barest semblance of inner peace.

“So… Why are we having this conversation again? Is this grief-relief hypothesis what you made me suffer indigestion for? Because I'm telling you, Nate, I love you, but not _that_ much.”

The time-traveller in question quirked a humored smirk, but his human eye still held that hesitating glint that looked so out-of-character on him. This was the man who would've murdered a kid with relish and didn't give a fuck about ruthlessly eliminating any possible innocents standing in his way.

What could he possibly be nervous about in front of Wade?

“Oh - _oh._ Is this a relationship advice thing? Like, you met someone in this timeline who reminds you of your wife? Wow. The universe really does work in mysterious ways - maybe _this_ is your real purpose for staying here. I'm kinda hurt.” Wade paused to process how hard that last part actually did hit him. “I'd just like to say that I'm totally down for being your supportive wingman, but maybe Yukio would be better for this one? I don't think many supermodels would willingly talk to a suspicious stranger who's ugly both inside and out. No offence, but it's probably a professional habit.”

A raised brow greeted him in reply. “”Supermodels”?” Wade honestly couldn't tell if it was in offence or in amusement. Damn the man’s penchant for deadpanning.

“Hey, don't let it get to your head. You're a tall - well, not as tall as you could be - muscled male superhero who straddles the line between antihero and villain, but mostly manages to land squarely on either Cool Asshole or Hot DILF. Add a supermodel trophy wife and bingo! _That's_ the American Dream.

Unless she was a mutant too. But that line would only open up a whole other can of worms about her and her child’s death. _Empathy - at least_ one _of us has to have it around here._

“That's not..." Cable - _Nate? Nate. That's what we're going with from now on -_ began in frustration, then seemed to think better of it. "Never mind. It's not what you think."

And there it was - that tiny crack in the facade of callous assholery signalling that some window of opportunity with the time-traveller was swiftly sealing up. Because while Nate’s defences were inscrutable, they weren’t entirely imperceptible to the observant eye.

“Aha…” Wade rambled on, mostly to stave the rising wave of panic he felt at the idea that he was somehow making a misstep with Nate - and the insidiously creeping alarm that that disturbed him so deeply. “She's gotta be a redhead, am I right, Classic Oedipal Complex Case Study?”

“He looks nothing like my wife did.”

_He?_

“Okay, so maybe I've been a little presumptuous - Wait, why’re you looking at me like that…?”

Nate was staring straight into his eyes, his jaw set in a hard line. Like he was a gambler about to stake all his chips on a single, destiny-defining spin of the wheel.

“I'm looking at him right now.”

The words resounded in Wade’s mind. _You remind me of my wife._ A foreshadowed warning, too little, too late.

Right on cue, the setting conceptualised based on that shitty one-paragraph description, designed exactly for this plot purpose, sharpened into focus. All around them, flowers bloomed in what a tree hugger would call Mother Nature's blessing. The night breeze enveloped them in a lover’s embrace.

And right there in the middle were the two of them, the lucky finalists of this season’s Tragically Bereaved Widowers special on The Bachelor. Sans the aforementioned suit and limo, Nate was looking at him like he’d just made his mind up to propose to him. Like Wade was his second chance.

It was all the exact fucking opposite of romantic. 

The mercenary stood up. His knees jolted with the speed and force of his movements, hard enough for the healing factor to kick in. The old panic - the one that first reared its ugly head when he looked into the mirror after Ajax and thought of Vanessa - had slithered its way back under his skin, pounding in his breast like a beast tearing out of its cage. 

“What - the _fuck -_ do you think you're doing?”

This kind of mood-setting, candlelight courting, tender advances - he'd anticipated it from Colossus, but never from Cable. They were the same kind of man in many ways; they'd both lost the woman they loved - because of themselves - in the most cruel way, they were both once-and-again mercenaries, and most of all - they shared the kind of self-loathing that had been so deeply insinuated into their very being by experiences and reflections that they sometimes forgot that not everyone lived with debilitating destructive tendencies towards themselves.

And suddenly, just because they were on a first-name basis now, had Nate decided to overturn everything Wade thought he knew about the time-traveller? 

Yet still Nate had the audacity to look up at him in frowning perplexing, as if _Wade_ was the one who was making a big deal out of nothing.

“If you think I remind you of your wife, then you should very well know why you - why _we_ can't do this.”

Nate’s human eye pinned him down with its narrowed gaze. Judging, evaluating his words for what they really meant. “You didn't seem to object to the idea before.”

“That was because - that was just -” _Sex. Incompatible souls writhing together momentarily for their compatible bodies._

For fuck’s sake, even _Colossus_ hadn't asked for anything more than a hook-up. Yet. Knowing the metal giant feelings would emerge to the forefront sooner or later, and that would have to be the end of that. He really didn't need Nate to double the trouble too.

“I - You know what, I just remembered that I gotta get to the sleepover party with Dopinder and the girls. See you never.” He didn't bother to make the statement sound even vaguely truthful. He didn't just want Nate to take a hint, he wanted him to take a hint and then _back the fuck off_ from this wooing bullshit. 

Wade turned his back on Nate resolutely, and was firmly in the process of walking away when the sound of the time-traveller’s feet hitting the ground alerted his senses.

In the next second the metal hand had his arm in a vice grip, and his own gun was lined up to his assailant's forehead by pure instinct. Nate didn't even flinch; like he was sure Wade wouldn't fire, like he thought he was safe around him, which was just _utter fucking bullshit because look where that kind of thinking had gotten him and Vanessa, and Nate and his wife -_

"When I rewound time I made a conscious choice. And I don't turn my back on my decisions, Wade. Don't run away from this." The time-traveller's bionic eye flared. His metal fingers were digging hard enough into the mercenary's arm to begin cutting off blood circulation. It hurt, but it didn't hurt enough for the conversation they were having. 

_Aha._ And there it was, some hint of selfishness that Wade could live with. Selfish lust was better than idealistic vows of eternal companionship that neither of them would be able to keep.

"Well, guess what? It was a shitty fucking choice, Nate, even _I_ agree with that. I didn't ask for you to make amends by sacrificing your return ticket for shooting me in the heart. I would've been just fine staying dead. I'd probably even be in heaven right now, going out a hero saving the kid! That's not likely to happen again. In fact, maybe I hate you for ruining my chance to reunite with Vanessa again!"

"The dead are in their own world now, whether in peace or in penance. That much I've learnt in all my years. You said that she was waiting for you beyond Death. But it doesn't mean you have to hasten to her right now. You understand that too on some level, Wade." Nate said, sounding as if he'd memorized and repeated this speech to himself a dozen times before a mirror.

Wade didn't know if he felt patronized, touched, or both.

"It's not betrayal to want to live on and not just survive. It's not disloyalty to find another place, another person to belong with. It's not wrong to just want to be home again."

_Huh._

It wasn't the first time he'd heard the whole trauma therapist speech. Weasel, Dopinder, Yukio, Negasonic... All of them had tried to give Wade some measure of consolation in their own ways. Hell, Colossus had tried too, but only got an unwanted hug and a hand on his ass for the trouble. It just went to show that Wade wasn't worth the trouble.

But somehow, coming from Nate's mouth, the same words resonated differently. 

It wasn't for any sentimental reason; wasn't that he valued his advice or trusted his words more than any other. But from a man whose life's trajectory so closely mirrored his own, from a man as jaded as Nate was - Wade could almost believe they weren't empty platitudes.

A long, shuttered breath escaped the mercenary's mouth in an exhale. He holstered his gun in silence.

"When my wife and I got married, we made a pact. If one of us were separated from the other - we had each other's blessing to move on with their memory in mind."

"That seems like an awkward honeymoon resolution."

“It was a necessary one. Where I come from it wasn't safe to be associated with mutants.”

“Glad to hear that some things never change,” Wade snorted on reflex.

Maybe it was because he wasn't born into mutanthood, or maybe it was just a natural extension of his charming personality - but he'd never felt particularly strongly about championing mutant rights.

There were piece of shit humans, and there were piece of shit mutants. The sooner every living being realized that, the sooner they could all consent to being fucking obliterated by one of those repetitive space aliens the Avengers always fought.

He supposed it all boiled down to the fact that there were very few things in this world he still truly cared about.

When his attention refocused he found Nate staring grimly at him. “What? That too misanthropic for you, Messiah Complex?”

“No, on the contrary. I agree with you.”

Wade was about to launch into a sarcastic quip about what Cable’s alternate universe selves would say to _that_ when the realization struck him. “... Wait, I didn't say all that out loud, did I. You're a _telepath?”_

Nate grunted in assent. “Along with a few other things. I would've thought you knew, from the things you say in your mind.”

“Wait wait wait - So you've been poking around in my brain all this while? All because I was too naive and innocent to know what you could see and do… Th-this is a serious breach of trust, Nate!” Wade yelled in dramatic anguish, mentally recounting all the things he'd thought in front of the time-traveller.

_This selective information thing is really getting old - and it just doesn't work on a canonically fourth-wall breaking character! Writers, we're going to have a little_ heart-to-heart _talk after this…_

_#No. 6 on The Would Bang List, wow-someone-really-needs-to-get-this guy-some-new-clothes, guess the Powers That Be made him my new partner for this ‘verse, and_ why the fuck is he doing all this just for a quickie anyways?

“Your healing factor blocks most of my access into your mind. Unless you're really - projecting - it.”

Ah, well. Now was as good a time as any to get that last question out of the way.

“Can you read what I'm thinking right now, Nate?” Wade asked slowly. His traitorous heart was lodged in his throat.

For a moment the time-traveller only stared on at him, bionic eye flashing in concentration. A silver of a smile tugged at his rugged lips as some kind of understanding dawned upon him.

Then Nate was pressing confidently into his space, his mouth smashed hot and rough against Wade’s. There was little of Vanessa’s finesse or Colossus’ care in the kiss - and honestly, that was a relief. His metal hand wrapped itself around the mercenary’s neck, just tight enough to make him moan.

They had stood up in the heat of the argument. Now the time-traveller cornered him back up by the fountain ledge, pushing down far enough that for a moment Wade fantasised about that metal arm forcing his head underwater and keeping him there.

And then Nate answered the question that had long escaped Wade’s mind.

“Because you and I were - could be - very important to each other, Wade. And I'm not squandering a chance at doing this the right way.”

His eyes burned with an almost prescient intensity as he articulated the words; like a promise and a warning all rolled into one.

The first thought that occurred to Wade was, _what kinda shitty romance novel is this turning into?_ But then his traitorous mind - his _mind,_ not even his dick, and well if this wasn’t a whole new betrayal since Vanessa… - said: _You definitely like the way he treats you. And this isn't Nate giving you an engagement ring and a promise of everlasting romance. So why not just let him do this his way? Why not just indulge him this one time?_

Nate was still waiting for some kind of reply, eyes - bionic and organic both - fixated on his face like he was carefully monitoring any spike in Wade’s signature that would betray his response.

_Actually, he probably_ is _doing exactly that._

So Wade said, “Damn you to hell and back, Nate. But let's try this out first.”

And then the time-traveller was surging forwards with a low growl, back into his personal space, pushing him along insistently on the garden path that led back into the X-Mansion.

In between distractingly overwhelming snatches of tongue action, Wade pulled back and peered into Nate’s face.

_Uh-oh._ He knew those eyes. They were heading for nowhere but bed. Unless, of course, the time-traveller had a more adventurous venue in mind.

And on any other day Wade would've had no concerns whatsoever - but today? Today he distinctly remembered, even through the haze of his lust-addled mind, that he already _had_ an anticipated visitor tonight.

"Wait-” Wade called out valiantly. His voice echoed down the - suspiciously conveniently empty - hallway as they passed it.

But in response, Nate only growled and manually picked him up around the waist. From the way his bionic eye was flashing, apparently whatever the psychic was picking up from Wade’s mind didn't dignify attention.

And - okay. Manhandling, in battle or outside of it, was all very distracting coming from a man like Nate. Wade’s thoughts were successfully derailed all the way until the time-traveller slammed him up against his bedroom door with all the force of his weight behind him.

“Ow! You really don't let up, do you?” The mercenary accused, then dipped his gaze down below the belt. And… Okay, they were both still hard, so he couldn't really complain. “Listen, there's something I really have to tell you…”

Nate quirked an eyebrow and leaned back, apparently finally ready to listen. Wade shifted nervously from where he was hoisted up against the door, legs cinched around the time-traveller’s waist. 

“You see, you weren't exactly the first person to uh… preposition me today?”

And that was the grand old moment when Colossus chose to open the door from the inside. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant for this to have more porn but instead it's just a lot of faux-snarky conversations?? I think this is the most dialogue I've ever written in a fic lol... Just know that my writing isn't always Like This™(???) ;;


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